You and I
by Aldira
Summary: A collection of crossovers with Harry Potter, starring, you guessed it, Harry Potter! Most will be slash but otherwise filled with gen. Rated M because I'm paranoid and for possible smut (which will be posted in the warnings beforehand).
1. Ouran High School Host Club

Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series, and Bisco Hatori, author of the Ouran High School Host Club manga series.

Warnings: OOC-ness

Note: Written for the If You Dare Challenge (451); Harry Potter Chapter Comp (Ch 1); 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms

**A Surprise Visit**

Tamaki knocked on the mundane apartment door confidently, smiling idiotically at the prospect of seeing his beloved 'daughter' again. It was dreadfully boring after school let out for summer break. He missed swinging her in his arms and her beautiful, darling smile. How he wished she would just call her "Daddy" though. When Tamaki felt fingers poke each of his cheeks, he broke out of his reverie. He suddenly knew what would make this day even better.

Waving his arms dramatically, Tamaki let out an annoyed yell. "Would you stop harassing me?"

"Eh? But, Tono," one of the twins said, smirking mischievously.

"You had this stupid grin on your face," the other continued.

"So we just had to put a stop to those perverted thoughts," the two finished, placing their elbows on Tamaki's shoulders.

The blond turning his head left and right, from Hikaru to Kaoru, or Kaoru to Hikaru, felt the beginnings of a headache forming. He really didn't want to deal with the twins today. Or any other day really…

His face exploded into redness when he finally registered their words. "What? I wasn't thinking any perverted thoughts about Haruhi! How dare you accuse me of something so lowly!"

"Who said anything—,"

"About Haruhi?"

By now, the brothers had matching devilish smiles on their faces.

"Unless you really are thinking about her—,"

"Then you're just a pervert."

"But, I, no, ugh!" Tamaki pulled at his hair in aggravation.

"Mommy!" he turned to Kyoya. "Hikaru and Kaoru are being mean to me again!"

The vice president didn't look up from his notebook. "Well then you shouldn't give them a reason to."

Tamaki placed a hand on his chest as if he was shot. "Even you Kyoya?"

"Takeshi, what is Tama-chan thinking about?" Hunny asked from his position on atop Mori's shoulders.

The taller third-year patted the blond's leg. "Nothing appropriate for your ears, Mitsukuni."

"Not you, too, Mori-senpai!" Tamaki wailed.

Just then, the door opened, revealing a dark-haired teen with emerald eyes. He stared at them curiously, a green melon bar ice cream in his hand.

"Can I help you?" he tilted his head to the side.

Tamaki gaped at him before snapping into action. "You! What are you doing in my daughter's house!"

Harry raised an eyebrow before understanding dawned on his face. "Oh, you must be the Host Club. Haruhi told me about you."

"My darling daughter talks about me?" Tamaki's eyes sparkled as his hands clasped his face in excitement.

"More like complains, but come in," Harry stepped aside, ushering them inside.

* * *

><p>Because melon ice-bars are too good. Yum. - Aldira~<p> 


	2. iCarly

Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series, and Dan Schneider, creator of iCarly.

Warnings: hints of violence (nothing graphic)

Notes: Written for the Harry Potter Chapter Comp: Accidental magic or someone punished harshly; 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms Chall: iCarly, The If You Dare Chall: 806 - Deep Roots, and the Lottery Comp: 13 Snow/ 15 Cry/ 24 Despair/ 25 Emerald/ 49 Chocolate

**Ice Cream Vs. Cupcakes**

Harry stuck closely to his family as they moved from store to store but didn't go so far as to hold onto his aunt's dress, or worse, hand. He learned that lesson years ago. He was not very keen on getting lost in Seattle of all places. It would be almost impossible finding the Dursleys, especially if they went back to England without his knowledge. There was a close call at the airport, and Harry didn't want to risk it again.

"Jealous, Potty?" Dudley jeered, holding out a cone swirled deliciously with chocolate ice cream topped with cheerful sprinkles to boot.

"Bet you want some, huh? But you can't have any!" Dudley stuck out his tongue at him before laughing loudly at Harry's sour expression.

He exhaled through his nose sharply, trying to contain his frustration, doing his best to ignore his cousin when Dudley proceeded to shove his shoulder roughly. Harry glared at him when he kept repeatedly harassing him.

"Huh, huh, you mad? Huh?" Each word was punctuated with a shove, and suddenly the ice cream cone moved by itself, pushing the creamy, cold as snow goodness onto Dudley's face, creating a dripping mess that started at his nose. The two froze for a second, processing what had just happened.

"Daddy!" Dudley wailed, pointing accusingly at Harry who tenses up as pure fear ran invaded his body.

Wide green eyes knew the exact moment when his uncle turned around, taking in a red with embarrassment son and his freak of a nephew. It didn't take long for Vernon to immediately blame one of the two. As he stomped toward them menacingly, Harry had no choice but to stand there, deeply rooted to the spot with fear. He barely registered the smug look his cousin threw him.

When Vernon clamped onto the back of his neck and shook him violently, Harry's mouth dropped open, arms reaching up to stop the thrashing in vain. He was a rag doll, helpless in the hands of his uncle, despair clinging to him as severely as the appendage around his neck.

"Stop, sir! That is no way to treat a child!"

* * *

><p>Spencer had been walking with his sweet little sister on this fine Seattle morning, which meant it was overcast. At least it wasn't raining, right? It only looked like the sky was about to cry. So, everyday really. They don't usually come to this area since it was mostly targeted toward tourists, so the prices were generally way overpriced. But this was where Carly's favorite cupcakes were, and he'd be darned if she didn't get any. With a box of elegantly decorated cupcakes in one hand and his sister's in the other, Spencer was prepared to roller-blade home when yelling caught his attention.<p>

A purple man was towering before a small child, looking to be prepared to throttle the poor kid. He was a bit reluctant to get involved in a domestic problem, but it seemed like it was going to get out of hand real fast. Plus, no one else was going to step in, he thought, seeing people only glancing once and walking past without a care.

He handed his sister the pink box, patting her head. "Stay here, Carly."

With that said, he lifted his right leg and pushed off the ground, skating toward the two.

"Stop, sir! That is no way to treat a child!"

The man looked up, sneering slightly at him. His complexion reminded Spencer greatly of a radish. It had a reddish, purple-y tint to it.

Spencer let out a startled yell when he crashed into the fat man, knocking both of them over, effectively cutting off the hold he had on the boy, but that could have gone infinitely better. He really shouldn't be distracted by the hue of a person when he was roller-blading. Seattle would be so much safer that way. Didn't need to start a road-block. Again.

"Get off me!" the man hollered, pushing Spencer away.

"Sorry," he pulled himself up, offering his hand only to have it ignored. He waved to the boy staring at him in shock.

"What do you want," Vernon stared at him warily as he dusted himself off.

"Well, I saw you," Spencer had a strangling motion with his hands, "to this poor kid, so I thought I should get involved."

"I don't see how this is any of your business, so get lost."

"Excuse me, I am a citizen of Seattle, and I will not tolerate this on my turf." Spencer put his hands on his hips, staring down the man.

"Leave, or I'll call the police," Vernon threatened, taking out his cellphone.

Spencer looked down, feeling a hand clutch at his shirt desperately, meeting pleading emerald eyes. Something about the kid reminded him of his sister, and he loved his sister. That small sad frown was enough to pull at his heartstrings, renewing his desire to one-up this man.

"Go ahead, I'm a lawyer. I'll sue you," Spencer sincerely hoped that he didn't call him out on his bluff. Sure, he attended law school. For three days.

"Vernon," a lady with a permanently pinched face tugged on the man's arm, nervous at the growing stares, "just leave the freak with him."

The husband scowled gruffly but nodded, dragging away his skeletal wife and equally obese son. Spencer didn't move until they disappeared from sight.

"Hey, kid!" he bent over. "My name's Spencer, what's yours?"

"Harry," the boy blinked at him, twisting his hands shyly.

"So, Harry, how do you feel about living with me? I mean, it's totally cool if you don't, but, yeah. We could just go the police and they'll know what to do."

Harry shook his head.

"Uhh, so you want to stay with me?"

A nod.

"Cool," Spencer grinned. "I always wanted a brother. I have a little sister. Her name's Carly. You'll love her just as much I do. She's a little bit younger than you, but I'm sure you'll get along fine."

"You want to meet her?"

Another nod.

"All right! To the cupcakes!" Spencer suddenly grabbed Harry who clutched his arms in surprise. He maneuvered the child until he was situated against him back, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He made a strangled sound. "Choking! Choking! Too tight!"

The hold loosened but was still secure. Almost as if Harry was afraid he'd drop him.

_We gotta work on these trust issues then,_ Spencer thought. _Oh well, one step at a time._

* * *

><p>I prefer cupcakes :P - Aldira~<p> 


	3. The Picture of Dorian Gray

Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series, and Oscar Wilde, author of _The Picture of Dorian Gray_.

Note: Written for the 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms Chall (The Picture of Dorian Gray), Harry Potter Chap Comp (Ch 3), and the "As Many As You Want" Comp (Color)

**Fine Art**

Harry knocked on the door of his favorite artist and sincere friend. It was a beautiful day, spring had just arrived and the buzzing of bees filled the air, bumbling happily near the star clusters of lilac blossoms nearbly. The weeping whillow waved to and fro as the wind trickled past the leaves, not so much weeping as it was dancing, welcoming the coming spring and shaking away the dreary winter.

Tucking his hands inside the pockets of his coat, for a chill was still present in the air, permeating London at least until mid-May, Harry waited patiently for a butler to open the oak door. True to his prediction, not a minute later, a young man, probably only half a decade older than himself, greeted him, bidding him to wait a moment longer so as to alert his master. As the door closed once more, Harry amused himself by examing the petals of a tiger lily, stroking the fine petals admiringly. A songbird began trilling, filling the space with sweet, high notes before another joined in, creating so beautiful a harmony.

Harry pulled out his pocketwatch, checking the ticking hands absently, releasing a soft sigh. Basil was taking longer than usual. Did he come at a bad time?

A pale face emerged slowly, cautiously, skin sticky with anxiety, more pale than Harry had ever seen before.

"Basil, dear friend! I have almost mistaken your pallor to be the very marrow of our bones! What has caused you to be so deathly afraid?"

"Oh, Harry," the artist breathed, color returning to his cheeks, "it is so good that it is this Harry and not the other, for when my servant came forth to alert me of a presence, uttering a low, 'Harry,' I perceived it to be someone else, one who shares your name. He had penned me a letter, writing that he'll visit me soon."

He opened the door wider, beckoning Harry in. Any lasting chill was washed away, submitting to the warmth from the heat of the hearth, embers roasting, flames flickering romantically.

"He must be one dreadful individual for you to express such a reaction," Harry mused, following Basil to his studio.

"Not so much dreadful, for he is still my friend. I just fear the corruption he will cause should he meet this individual."

"Someone else is present?"

"Yes, and although I enjoy Lord Henry's company (the man who shares your name), I do not trust him completely. His cynicism would alter this poor youth, and I won't be able to bear it if he were changed."

"Hmm, should I be jealous that you have found a closer companion that is not myself?" The two were now standing beside the door of the studio, quietly conversing so as to not alert the individual inside. Curiousity was steadily growing in Harry, wondering who had managed to capture Basil's attentions so completely.

"He is...," the artist paused, "someone whose beauty and spirit should be cherished. Not yet exposed to the cruelties of this world, his perspective and views are innocent and naive. He incites the need to protect, and Harry would only use that to his advantage."

"And you trust me with your fair companion?"

Basil stared into bright emerald eyes and wondered again how he had ever found such a compassionate fellow, one so good and honest, such a rarity in the world.

"I trust you with my life."

"Well, shall we meet your friend?" With that said, Harry turned the bronze knob, heart racing just a tad at the exciting prospect.

* * *

><p>I had originally intended for this to be slash between Dorian and Harry, but this happened. I'll continue this later on :P - Aldira~<p> 


	4. Percy Jackson (Hermes)

Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series, and Rick Riordan, author of the Percy Jackson series.

Warnings: OOC-ness, sexual content between males

Note: Written for the Lottery Comp: 2 Thestral/ 29 Family/ 37 Festive/ 42 "I hate Christmas" / 48 "The weather is grim"; Disney Character Comp: Hercules; 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms Challenge; "As Many As You Want" Comp: first, smut, bedroom, incredibly close

**My Hummingbird**

Harry stood, stroking the tight, leathery skin of the skeletal creature who allowed the gentle petting. It was cold, as was customary in the wintertime. Visible puffs of air escaped his mouth as he sighed deeply. Loneliness invaded every crack in his being, and the desolate silence only increased the poor forsaken teen.

* * *

><p><em>"Sorry! I didn't see you there!"<em>

_ Harry glanced at the hand, tracking it back to an older curly-haired, bright-eyed boy, face contorted into an apologetic look. _

_ "No, it's fine. It was my fault," Harry said, taking the outstretched hand. _

* * *

><p>He had declined Ron's offer to spend the holidays at the Weasley household, choosing to stay at Hogwarts. Hermione took the train ride back to King's Cross, extending an invitation to him as well to meet her parents, but Harry gave her the same answer.<p>

* * *

><p><em>"Harry, I need you to be honest with me," said teen froze, heart beating fast. "Do you like me?"<em>

_ A tell-tale blush was his answer. And it was all that he needed. _

_ "Good, because I like you, too."_

* * *

><p>Despite its festive decorations, Hogwarts lacked its wonder without the packed, rowdy students, too quiet and empty. It was disconcerting to him. But Harry didn't want to be alone. Sure, he felt isolated now, but at the Burrow, he would have experienced something similar. While not physically alone, Harry would feel lonely in his state of mind, divided, an outcast in the happy family. Cedric was dead, it's a complete wonder how Harry survived this far, this long. It should have been him.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Harry's face was flushed a deep red as he stuttered, arms waving about as he tried to explain himself.<em>

_ "You have a beautiful voice, Harry. Sing to me?"_

_ Harry gaped for a few seconds, disbelieving, before he shook his head and gave in._

* * *

><p>He tugged his cloak tighter around him, belatedly realizing that he should have cast on warming charms yet not making any move to grab his wand. The cold made him feel real, alive. It was the better choice to remain at Hogwarts. At least here, he didn't have to pretend he was happy. A persona wasn't needed if there wasn't anyone around.<p>

* * *

><p><em>"I love you, my beautiful hummingbird."<em>

* * *

><p>Soft crunching filled his ears. Harry stayed in his still position, staring at the sky, hand resting absently on the snorting Thestral.<p>

"The weather is grim," the person said, stopping at his side. A male, judging by the deeper voice.

"Yeah," Harry replied, voice slightly breathy. The sky painted an ongoing gray slate, a dull, dull color, the sun nowhere to be found. He tore his eyes away from the sky to look at his new companion. It was an older male, not a student, that much was obvious, not to say that he looked old, probably in his early thirties. His face was framed by black hair that fell in slight curls, blue eyes sparkling mischievously. The muggle suit he donned on did nothing to hide his muscular frame. There was something in his grin that reminded him greatly of the Weasley twins. Harry could tell he was a prankster right off the bat, making him a bit weary of his intentions. But he was a handsome man, retaining his boyish good lucks from his youth, and Harry suddenly found himself grateful for the stinging cold, face already red and hiding his appreciative blush from the once-over.

"Hello," Harry breathed out, finding it difficult to speak when the man shot him a sly smile.

"What's a fair beauty like you doing out here in the cold all alone?" the stranger stepped closer, decreasing the already little space separating them. He brought his hand up, fingers ghosting under Harry's chin, making him tip his head by to stare into his eyes. Harry sucked in his breath sharply. Clear, beautiful blue met his own. It was as if the summer sky was imprinted in those irises, and he couldn't bring himself to look away.

The corners of his lips perked up. "Did I take your breath away?"

Harry grew flustered, tearing himself from the stranger's grip only to have his hips held in place, blushing even harder at the intimate contact.

"You still didn't answer my question," he reminded the teen, stating it casually as if he wasn't close enough to share the same air as him.

"I just, I hate Christmas, so I don't really want to spend it in the castle," Harry said, shifting slightly in discomfort. The intimate touches seemed to burn through his clothes, inflaming desire in the small teen, fanning the already present attraction he felt toward the man. It was ridiculous how fast he developed this lust, but teenage hormones were a wonder, and Harry cursed them infinitely for causing his body's reaction.

"Really?" the stranger hummed. "Then I'll just have to show you the brighter side of Christmas."

He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead against Harry's and shooting him a smile. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, eyes dropping down to those thin, pink lips. Harry swallowed his suddenly dry throat. Oh, boy…

* * *

><p>Harry writhed under those talented hands exploring his body wondrously, skillfully, playing him like an instrument, drawing moans and desperate whines from him. There was guilt, so much guilt. But there had been so much pain in his heart, rivaling the physical, no, surpassing the pain that even Voldemort had caused. It hurt, but Evan, he made the pain bearable, at least for now. He made him forget.<p>

His breath hitched when he felt fingers prod at his entrance. Gripping the sheets tightly in one fist and holding on tightly to Evan's shoulder with the next, Harry shut his eyes, biting his bottom lip. He had never went this far with another before, and a part of him was shocked he allowed this night to escalate to this point, but he didn't want to go back.

Too much heat, it was too hot. Harry panted softly, skin gleaning with a coat of sweat. Each movement the two made was slick and wet. A tongue lapped at his collarbone, teeth scraping over the sensitive skin sensually. Harry lolled his head to the side, eyes glazed with pleasure, crying out when a hand started pumping his hardened length. A finger dipped into his hole, preparing him of what was to come. Harry didn't notice, too lost in the throes of lust. When a second finger was added, he felt a sharp sting, but Evan was an attentive lover and did his best to distract him from the pain. By the time the third finger was in, Harry had his legs spread almost obscenely wide, letting his moans escape him with no holding back, arms circled around Evan's neck.

"Please, please," Harry didn't even know he was whispering that phrase over and over until Hermes licked a trail up to a spot behind his ear that made his toes curl as he voiced his consent. He wrapped his legs around his waist, thrusting his hips up eagerly.

When a hardness pressed itself against his entrance, not yet entering, Harry hesitated briefly before nodding, rocking himself back against it.

He almost regretted it when not a second later and it felt like he was being torn open. Why did people like this so much? Tears collected at the corners of his eyes as Harry tried to muffle the sounds of his discomfort in Evan's shoulders, nails raking along the muscular back. But Evan waited patiently, which was probably difficult for him, Harry knew, feeling the tense body above him as if he was barely restraining himself back. And pleasure soon overtook him. It was passionate, wild, explosive. When Harry started succumbing to it, Evan no longer held back, going as hard and as fast as he could, the bed creaking loudly with the force.

"My name."

Harry blearily opened his eyes. What?

"My name, say my name."

"Evan!" Harry moaned, tossing his head back.

"No, Hermes. Call me Hermes."

Harry was too lost to question this strange request, and so he obliged. With a cry, Harry saw stars, twitching when Hermes continued to assault his already sensitive body, and soon, he shuddered when warmth filled him from below. As Hermes pulled out, the still warm cum dripped out erotically, but Harry was too tired to care. A warm body collapsed next to him, dragging Harry over, laying his head on that toned chest. When Harry felt the beginnings of sleep edging into his mind, he heard a soft whisper that had his eyes snapping open.

"Goodnight, my beautiful hummingbird."

* * *

><p>Evan means "good messenger" in Greek and a hummingbird symbolizes messengers as well, just being a nerd as I try to correlate it all back to Hermes, the messenger god. It's only a coincidence that Evans is Lily's last name. I hope I made it obvious what just happened. - Aldira~<p> 


	5. Bridge to Terabithia

Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series, and Katherine Paterson, author of Bridge to Terabithia.

Note: Written for the 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms Challenge.

**New Student**

Jesse stared at the new student in front of him. It was odd how there were so many transfers all of sudden. It was only two, but that doesn't happen very often in this small town. He looked over at Leslie to see her reaction. Her head tilted slightly, short blonde locks neatly falling to the side, the girl wore a bright smile on her face, like he expected. Leslie always seemed to be in a happy mood, smiling was her default expression. She beamed and sent him a small wave when she noticed his staring before turning back to the front of the classroom. Jesse tuned back to what the teacher was saying.

"So please make Harry feel welcome," Mrs. Myers concluded, pushing the small, scrawny boy gently forward. "We have to order another desk again, so you'll have to share with…"

She paused as her hawk eyes swept the room before landing on Leslie, softening considerably. "You can share with Leslie. Is that okay with you?"

"I don't mind, Mrs. Meyers," she replied, raising her hand to show her location for the new kid. Harry pulled a chair over, dropping his ratty bag to the floor. He nervously took out a notebook and pencil, sticking only to one corner of the desk even though Leslie angled her own papers to one side to allow for more room.

"Okay, class," Mrs. Meyers started once more, "you will write me a paragraph on what you learned on a special on bats and echolocation coming on tonight at 6 pm. Leslie, see me after class to discuss what you'll write."

The blonde girl nodded, ignoring the slight snickering of her peers coming especially loud from Gary Fulcher.

Jesse doodled in his notes, placing his forearm on his desk to block the teacher's view. He was just touching up on the exterior of the treehouse when an unfamiliar voice piped up.

He glanced to the side, not moving from his slightly hunched position to see the fall of Harry's hand.

"What if I can't watch TV?" Jesse rose his eyebrows at the English accent. Was he really that distracted that he missed his teacher explaining the student moved from England? He should start paying more attention in class, he thought as he slowly put down his pencil.

"Oh great, another sheltered hippie," Garry muttered from behind Jesse who frowned at the jibe at his friend. The class burst into giggles at the comment.

Redness rushed throughout Harry's face at the derisive laughter, confused about the jeer but aware that it was about him. Jesse felt a stab of pity for him, someone who was mocked for something when he had only said one thing so far in this new country.

"Quiet!" the teacher smacked her ruler against the desk, waiting until the last giggle died before continuing. "Meet me after class, too, Harry."

The green-eyed boy ducked his head, curling into himself like a turtle away from the stares. Leslie patted his arm, whispering something to him. Jesse frowned slightly at the curious exchange but shrugged, figuring he'll find out from Leslie later at their place. They were the rulers after all, no time to deal with new students.

* * *

><p>I was planning to write more…but then I got lazy. Not a good excuse, I know. But this makes a decent intro to something more later on. Meanwhile, I'm still cringing at the smut I wrote last chapter. It was my first time, I apologize. Skip past the shame, I know I do. PS: if you have any requests, I'm open to them. - Aldira~<p> 


	6. Peter Pan

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Peter Pan.

Note: Written for the 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms Challenge; Build-a-Bear Challenge: a bear

**Newly Found**

Harry froze, feeling the air shift slightly. He glanced out of the corner of his eye, trying to see something. The beating of his heart resounded in his ears, breath quickening just so. Clenching and unclenching his fists, Harry resisted the urge to run out of the room in fright. He was fifteen now, so it was time he acted like a man. He will not scream and flee in terror. Instead, Harry will stride out of this room with dignity. As he turned on his heel, he flinched when a gush of wind took him by surprise. Slowly peeking over his shoulder, he saw the pale, translucent curtains billowing out. The outward chill somehow made its way into his veins, chilling his blood. Weren't the windows closed?

He backed up toward the door, arm stretched behind him, eyes darting back and forth anxiously, latching onto every movement and rattle in his room. A dark shadow passed in one corner and over the next. His breath came out in short intervals. His hand latched onto the doorknob.

"Lily?" Harry called out, back against the door.

"What!" was the annoyed reply from across the hall. Harry didn't answer, swallowing his suddenly dry throat. He shut his eyes, counting numbers inside his head, desperately hoping that it was just his overactive imagination, that there was no killer inside his house.

"Boo." Harry whipped his head to the right, jerking back in surprise, slamming into the door. He clawed at his chest, heart racing, eyes flashing. Laughter rang in the room. Harry stared in shock at the teenage boy in front of him.

"Peter?" he whispered.

The redhead swung his arms out dramatically, turning in a circle. "The one and only."

He took a running start and jumped onto Harry's bed, bouncing slightly at the rebound before hopping diligently on it. Harry swiftly followed him, never taking his eyes of his long-lost friend.

"Where have you been this whole time?" Harry asked, looking up at Peter.

"Oh, somewhere," he replied off-handedly, as if he hadn't been gone for four years.

"Peter—," Harry was interrupted by pounding on his door.

"Shut up!"

"I should tell Lily. She'll be happy you're here," Harry muttered, walking toward the door.

"No!" was the furious whisper. Harry yelped as he suddenly fell to the floor. Peter sat on top of him, covering his mouth urgently.

"You can't tell your sister!" Peter leaned in closer until the tiny freckles on his face were clear, the blue of his eyes a radiant, startling shade, something Harry certainly missed seeing. "This is between you and me."

Harry's brow crinkled. "What do you mean?"

"How do you feel about coming with me?"

"To where?" Harry tilted his head to the side in curiosity.

"Neverland."


	7. Walking Dead

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Walking Dead don't belong to me.

Warnings: violence, zombies (so a poor attempt at goriness)

Note: Written for the "As Many As You Want" Comp: Pompeii by Bastille, never, desperation, content, grimace, not afraid, nail, bloody, "Run! Get out of here!", sobbing hysterically, grotesque; The If You Dare Chall: 94 - Chains, Build-A-Bear Challenge: lots of stuffing

**Living Nightmare**

Harry stared at the sign, hand reaching out to brush the faded white letters. A sanctuary, a safe house. Food, water, rest. He let out a shuddering breath as he retracted his hand. How long had it been since he had actually slept without fear and paranoia clouding his thoughts? Two years really changed a person with this lifestyle. Harry had always been a small, thin kid, blame it on his relatives and their less than stellar treatment, but now his bones became even more prominent under the constant running away from zombies and minimal food supplies, protruding awkwardly under his thin skin.

He readjusted the straps holding the shotgun and the small backpack over his shoulder, casting one last glance at the sign before walking along the road.

"Well, let's find our asylum."

* * *

><p>Harry cautiously poked his head into the room, breathing shallowly, trying to minimize his presence as much as possible. Even though this was supposedly a sanctuary, that didn't mean the people there were welcoming. For all he knew, it could just be a trap.<p>

It was a warehouse of some kind. He slowly walked to the center, sliding his hand along the edge of the trough curiously. He froze when a strangely recognizable shape appeared at the corner of his eye. Harry swallowed, a chill entering his spine, dread pooling in his stomach. He had a sneaking suspicion of what it was before he even fully looked at it, and when he did, the urge to gag became difficult to ignore. Horrified, he stared at the upper body of a human, head and limbs hacked off, hanging from the ceiling in the next room. The skin was tightly stretched across the muscles, each rib standing out grotesquely. He shuddered in disgust, face contorting in a grimace. Killing someone under the right situation, that Harry understood, but eating him? He didn't think he'd ever stoop that low. Surely there's some other solution.

Harry took a step back. This place was no longer safe. He had to get out of here. He didn't make it very far before a voice rang out loudly along with the cocking of a gun. Flinching, Harry shivered, wiping any trace of fear in his visage, but it was hard not to be afraid in the face of cannibals.

Five men appeared from the shadows, stepping out slowly. The corner of his mouth twitched at the stereotypical 'evil villain' cliche.

"Drop your weapons." Harry slid the strap of his shotgun off his shoulder, carrying it in his hand as one stepped up to pat his body for more. While this happened, he stared at the man with the gun, obviously the ringleader.

"Not much of a sanctuary, is it?" Harry said sarcastically, arms held up, tensing when his kitchen knife was yanked out of its awkward hold tied around his uncle's belt. He received a lifted eyebrow at his curious choice for a weapon but Harry just shrugged. There hadn't been much of an option with a walker about to devour him alive.

The man scoffed, aim not deterring in the slightest. "Is there any left in the world?"

"Don't worry. This is just standard protocol. We can't just trust strangers now, can we? Even if you're just a kid."

He scowled. He was fourteen, at least he was pretty sure he was. It was difficult to calculate time nowadays. "Well, I'm Harry and you're the creepy man with trust issues. See? Not strangers anymore."

He glared at Harry threateningly. "It's Gareth."

"Cool. Well then, _Gareth_, isn't that the whole point of a sanctuary? To accept people with no questions asked?" Harry didn't get a reply, only hearing a stern order for his frisker to check his bag.

"There's nothing much in there," Harry commented, switching his weight from the ball of his foot to his toes, repeating the action numerous times, "just the essentials: food, water. Gotta travel light these days, you know?"

The man by his side poured out the backpack's contents, showing the truth in Harry's words. There were a couple cans of food and two bottles of water. It wasn't much, and often his stomach grumbled protestingly at the small portions but he couldn't risk carrying more and slowing him down. It could mean the difference between life or death now. Harry never thought he'd miss the days where all he had to worry about was when another round of Harry Hunting would occur.

Gareth broke into a smile, one that stretched wide across his face, one that didn't bode well for Harry.

"Well, Harry, welcome to Terminus. Unfortunately for you, you walked into this warehouse instead of all the other ones. That means you found out sooner than you were supposed to," he leaned in close to Harry's face, exhaling out his foul breath with every word, the teen's lip curling in distaste. "You could have gone the next few days, living without a clue, enjoying the food we provided. But now you know," Gareth gestured to the hanging chest in the next room, most likely housing more chopped body parts.

"You only have two choices: join us or feed us."

* * *

><p>It had all started a little before lunch. Harry had been preparing the food, chopping up the vegetables, as usual. It was just another normal day.<p>

Oddly peaceful, but Harry wasn't going to read too much into it, taking it for what it's worth, keeping his mouth shut as he worked. Dudley was upstairs, playing his video games, not bothering to annoy Harry today, too enraptured in his new gaming device his mother gifted to him not too long ago. Even though Harry couldn't see him, he could hear the loud grumblings of his uncle Vernon, complaining about whatever was on the television. Aunt Petunia was outside, no doubt snooping on their neighbors again. Everything had been normal, but it soon took a turn for the worse, like always with Harry's life.

When it had neared Harry's eleventh birthday, strange letters had started appearing, all addressed to him. He didn't know what it all meant but his aunt and uncle paled to a chalk white, and the next day, ordered the closest flight tickets to America. A year, it had only been a year before everything turned to hell.

Harry was almost finished with the salad when a shrill scream was heard outside, chilling the blood in his veins. Some pieces of lettuce flew out of the mixing bowl as he startled. It wasn't the little screams she let out whenever she caught sight of a mouse, this was different. It was the kind of scream that rang from the very depths of the soul, when a character from a horror movie knew she would die. Aunt Petunia was not scared, no, she was _terrified_.

There was furious, frantic pounding at the door.

"Help! Help!" she screeched out. The knob was tried multiple times before she managed to open it in her panic. Uncle Vernon had jumped into action from her first scream, pulling the shotgun off the wall. Harry hadn't moved at all from his place in the kitchen, frozen in fear.

There were gunshots and more screaming from both Petunia and Vernon, and Harry still couldn't move. Why couldn't he just move? Run, help, do something. His legs wouldn't obey him.

A groan had his eyes snapping to its source, and Harry regretted it instantly. A rotting corpse was staring down at him, arms outstretched to him. Harry jerked back when it started walking toward him, colliding with the kitchen counter. Feeling around behind him for any weapon, never taking his eyes off the thing, his hand clenched the handle of the knife and hurriedly stabbed it in the head as cold fingers clawed at his face. Shuddering, Harry applied more force into the knife, shoving the body onto the floor. He pulled it out, checking to see if the thing was dead once more, heart pounding restlessly as adrenaline poured into him. Now having the opportunity to fully look at the body, Harry gagged at half-rotting corpse, the smell hitting him full on. Harry exhaled shallowly, finally working up the courage to step out of the kitchen, and the sight that greeted him wasn't pretty. A group of zombies were eating his relatives, devouring them like they were meager appetizers for a full course meal. There were torn pieces of skin, flesh hanging out of their mouths. His aunt was sobbing hysterically and Uncle Vernon was trying to fight back but the horde soon overpowered him.

Harry was horrified. This was all just a bad dream, and soon he'll wake up. His aunt would be there to yell at him to get his chores done, his uncle to smack him on the head for every interpreted mistake, Dudley to sneer at him for existing.

Harry let out a soft sob, his entrance alerted them and immediately one got up from Vernon, replaced quickly by another one hoping to taste the man. Harry quickly opened the door of his cupboard, slamming the door behind him. He fell on the small mattress, holding the knife in front of him in case it somehow followed him inside. There was frustrated scraping at the door and Harry sighed in relief. A familiar stomping had his ears perking up, the ceiling of his cupboard creaking characteristically, always making him worry that maybe one day Dudley would fall through the stairs and crush him.

No, don't come down, Harry wanted to yell, to warn his cousin. It wasn't safe here. But it was too late. The scratching stopped, the shadow seen under the door crack moved slowly away. Dudley's voice soon joined the other screaming.

Harry pushed aside one of the piles of Dudley's old clothes passed on to him, displaying a small hole that he made after a particularly long confinement. Angling himself just right, his back pressed up against the wall, he peered into the street, eyes widening when he saw it littered with zombies. He sank to the floor. What was going on? Tears collected at the corner of his eyes. Harry covered his ears in a futile attempt to block out the screams, curling into himself as he quietly sobbed.

He didn't emerge until the next morning, skipping lunch and dinner, too tired and afraid to step out of the cupboard. The groans and screaming had long since faded but he couldn't be too cautious. When he found his relatives, or rather, what remained of them, Harry ran straight to the bathroom and threw up the little food he had left in his stomach. It was horrible, disgusting. Not just blood but chunks. He whimpered, pushing himself away from the toilet to rest his head along the edge of the bathtub. Harry made to flush the toilet when he realized it didn't work. Confusion furrowed his brow before he remembered that no one was probably manning the water network and the like. Probably dead. Harry quickly wiped that thought from his mind. He tested the tap but wasn't too surprised to find that it wasn't working either. So, no plumbing, no electricity. That means the refrigerator won't work. Water and food was Harry's number one priority. He wasn't too worried about water. The Dursleys' always stocked up on bottles in the garage, believing it to be the better alternative than drinking from the tap and the fridge. He was more concerned about food because without the refrigerator, they would spoil sooner. Harry would have to rely solely on canned food, and who knew how long he'd last with that? There were only so many in the house. But he'd worry about that later. Right now, Harry had to ward the place.

He cringed as he passed the remains but knew that he had to clean them later. Harry walked out, Vernon's shotgun, something he had previously only thought of as a decoration simply there to satisfy his uncle's greed, at the ready as he looked around for any sign of danger, and finding none, continued to the shed housing the building supplies Vernon kept in the backyard. Not that his uncle ever touched them or anything but Bill from next door had them, so Vernon of course needed them, too. And for that, Harry was thankful for Vernon's inflated pride because it just about saved him. He carried in planks of wood, returning to carry a saw, a hammer, and a bucket of nails. Harry spent the rest of the day boarding up the windows, nailing them shut. It wasn't a walk in the park though. Some walkers appeared, attracted by the noise he inevitably caused but a stab to the head generally sufficed. He was beginning to notice a pattern here.

Harry was perfectly content to stay in the boarded up house. The walkers weren't a problem as long as he stayed quiet, bypassing the house completely. It was strange without the constant noise of his daily life but he'd rather much stay alive. It was easy, just pretending that everything was going to be fine as he stayed disconnected from the rest of the world. However even he noticed when the food and water began to dwindle down. He tried to ration off the rest but it wasn't enough. Harry would have to start moving soon. And that meant leaving the one place he was familiar with. Filled with hesitancy, Harry prolonged the need to leave but he knew it was time to go. He packed all the necessities into Dudley's old backpack and slung the shotgun over his shoulder, knife strapped to his side. What happened next was a bunch of house hopping. He went from one to the other, raiding it of food, water, anything Harry needed. Not all of them were successes though. Some houses had already been scoured through, emptied of everything important, and those days were rough, but hopefully, one day, it'd be all worth it in the end, all this would finally end.

* * *

><p>Harry scoffed, ignoring the gun pointed at his head. "Are you kidding me? I'm a survivor. I didn't live through my relatives' abuse, the freaking <em>apocalypse<em>, to just die here. Like it or not guys, you're stuck with me from now on."

Gareth smirked at him, signaling someone to take his belongings. Harry immediately started protesting.

"Hey, I said I would agree to staying here, but you can't just take my stuff. Besides, I'm not ready to…adapt to your diet just yet. So stay away from my canned peaches," Harry said firmly, snatching back the pack. "And you are not taking my gun. I need that, and you lot would just kill me if I so much as cocked it in your direction anyway."

Fortunately, Gareth didn't have the chance to argue when the voice on his walkie talkie rang out, talking about some new visitors, and with a stern, "I'll deal with you later" left Harry in the warehouse instructing one person to stay behind to keep watch on him. Not that he could do that since as soon as the group filed out the door, Harry stunned the man. It was one of the many things he discovered he could do just by wishing it hard enough. His relatives had called him a freak for as long as Harry could remember, but it was only recently that he realized why. It was like he was magical or something. Harry couldn't confront them about his abilities anymore though. It had helped with run-ins with walkers. They didn't notice him if he wished to blend in with them, but he can't hold it up for too long, too draining of a task to.

Harry tried to think of a plan. He could just make a run for it now when no one was here to stop him, but the person the other end of the walkie talkie was talking about 'new visitors'. Surely Harry had to warn them about this place before he left. He was torn about his decisions when he heard the sound of voices getting louder, one recognizable as Gareth. Harry cursed, quickly dragging the fallen body to the next room, the one containing the…other bodies, the ones meant for different purposes, a purpose that had him shivering as soon as he stepped in. It was eerie being in the same room as human bodies that were once alive but were now reduced down to be consumed as a daily caloric intake.

Gareth strolled in with the rest of his gang, this time carrying in bound and gagged bodies of five men, and Harry instantly knew that this wasn't going to end well. He waited with bated breath as the unconscious men slowly started to come to. And he was right. Two of them ended up dead, struck with a baseball bat and their throats slit open with so much precision that could only be gained through experience. Harry aimed his gun, waiting for an opportunity to shoot. If it didn't come soon, he didn't know how many more would die. He would have to create one for himself. And suddenly, loud gunshots ricocheted, making the people present, and alive, startle. When Gareth scurried off to find out what was happening when he received no reply on the walkie talkie, Harry wasted no time in shooting the remainder of the gang, running out of the room to help untie the captives. He couldn't make his escape just yet though. It would seem that more captives were being held here, and there was no way Harry would leave them at the mercy of Gareth and the rest. Harry guessed that he'll play hero one more time before he left.

* * *

><p>I just discovered that the Walking Dead was much better than I thought it'd be. My friend was always raving about it, but I always assumed she was exaggerating. A few days ago though my older cousin was watching it on tv, and I sat with her. It was this episode right here. Episode 1, Season 5. This was my first Walking Dead episode, followed by three more consecutively, and I really want to back to season one and watch from the beginning. I'm not surprised though, I always start series out of order. - Aldira~<p> 


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